Chapter 31
Masks of Flesh
Rain lashed against the city that evening, drumming endlessly on rooftops and flooding the gutters. Within that storm, three shadows walked in silence — Ouroboros, Voldrack, and Zaratul — each wearing a mask of flesh.
Xin Min's body fit Maverick like a tailored cloak: tall, sharp-boned, aristocratic. But the other two demons, bound to the corpses of Xin Min's underlings, had inherited rougher vessels.
Li Wei, broad-shouldered with a scar across his brow, had been one of Xin Min's fists in life. Now, Voldrack moved behind those eyes, his regal bearing hidden beneath a thug's frame.
Chen Hao, wiry and sharp-faced, had been the mouth of their trio, always jeering and mocking. Now his grin was a hollow mask stretched over Zaratul's ancient malice.
The three demons separated as the storm swallowed the streets, each walking toward a home that was no longer theirs.
Li Wei's House – Voldrack's POV
The door creaked open into a modest apartment thick with the smell of stir-fry and incense. Voldrack, inside Li Wei's body, was greeted by a pair of weary eyes — Li Wei's mother, Mei Lian. She froze, wooden spoon trembling in her hand.
"Li Wei…" her voice cracked, half in disbelief, half in relief. "Where have you been? Days… no, weeks! Do you have any idea how worried I've been?"
Voldrack kept his posture loose, deliberately mimicking the casual arrogance he'd gleaned from the vessel's memories. "I just needed some time," he muttered. "Hung out with Xin Min."
Her face hardened at the name. "Xin Min again? That boy drags you into trouble. And now… Sung Ho is dead. Do you know what people are saying?"
The question hung heavy. Voldrack's mind worked swiftly — the role required imperfection, not polished calm. He let irritation curl his lip, just enough to appear human. "Rumors. Nothing more."
But inside, the demon sneered. These mortals drown in their own weakness. And yet, their worry… it protects me.
Mei Lian's eyes softened, though doubt lingered. She reached out, brushing his cheek with trembling fingers. "Promise me, Li Wei. Promise me you won't end up like him."
Voldrack tilted his head, studying her as if she were an insect pinned under glass. At last, he forced the vessel's lips to curl into a faint smile. "I promise."
The lie slid effortlessly, and she believed it.
Chen Hao's House – Zaratul's POV
The Chen household was louder. Zaratul, wearing Chen Hao's lean frame, pushed open the door only to be engulfed by a younger sister clinging to his waist.
"Gege! You're back! Mother said you'd run away!"
Zaratul froze. Her warmth against the vessel's ribs was alien, irritating. He placed a stiff hand on her shoulder, prying her away with unnatural gentleness. "I was… busy."
From the kitchen, an older man's voice thundered. "Busy? Chen Hao, do you think this family is a hotel you come and go from?" His father, Chen Rong, stepped into view, broad and stern, carrying decades of labor in his posture. His eyes narrowed. "And now Sung Ho is dead. Your name is being whispered, boy. Tell me — what happened?"
Zaratul's lips split into Chen Hao's familiar smirk. "People die. What does it have to do with me?"
His father's hand twitched, as though tempted to strike him, but the mother intervened with a sharp word. "Enough. He's home. Let him eat."
Zaratul watched them with serpent-like detachment, storing every detail, every weakness. The sister's innocence. The father's temper. The mother's hesitation. Such fragile chains, he thought. And they believe they bind me.
Yet he played along, sitting at their table, chewing tasteless rice, smiling like Chen Hao would. The mask was perfect — but the serpent beneath already coiled, waiting.
Xin Min's House – Ouroboros' POV
High above the city, in a mansion of cold marble and glass, Maverick faced a different kind of homecoming.
Xin Min's parents had not yet returned, but the servants bowed low as he entered. Their eyes flickered, curious but fearful, for the boy they remembered was arrogant, violent, predictable. Now, he moved like a storm wrapped in silk, his every gesture carrying weight.
He ascended to the study, where portraits of generations lined the walls. The family name loomed over him, carved into wood and history: Xin.
Ouroboros ran a finger along the polished frame of his vessel's grandfather, lips curling. This family thinks it rules through legacy. Soon, they will learn what it means to kneel before fate itself.
Behind him, Voldrack and Zaratul's presences stirred faintly in the link they shared. Each had slipped into their roles, each wearing their masks convincingly.
But beneath the surface, the tension of Sung Ho's death still hummed. The families whispered. The city buzzed. And the heavens had briefly shivered.
The Families' POV
Elsewhere, in quieter corners of the city, two families wrestled with unease.
At the Li residence, Mei Lian knelt before the household shrine, incense smoke curling around her whispered prayers. "Protect my son. Whatever shadows cling to him, drive them away…" Her voice cracked, though her hands trembled with devotion.
At the Chen home, Chen Rong sat awake long after his wife and daughter had slept. His calloused hands tightened around a cup of rice wine. Something's wrong with that boy. He came back… different. His eyes… too cold. But suspicion alone meant nothing. He could only wait, and watch, and drink his doubt into silence.
Back in the mansion, Ouroboros stood at the balcony, watching lightning carve the sky. His voice, low and steady, echoed in the storm.
"The masks are in place. The pieces are moving. Let the families grieve. Let them whisper. In the end, all their love, all their suspicion… will amount to nothing. For I am Ouroboros. And fate already belongs to me."
Thunder swallowed his words, but the storm carried them outward — across city, across sky, into the unseen realms above and below.
And both Heaven and Hell, though blind to his exact form, felt the faint stirring of a predator newly born.